


Those Left Behind

by wrote_and_writ



Series: Random Fandom Twelve Days of Stories: Nice Series [10]
Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-20
Updated: 2018-12-20
Packaged: 2019-09-23 04:36:55
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 306
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17073593
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wrote_and_writ/pseuds/wrote_and_writ
Summary: It’s Christmas time and all they want is a visit from one ghost.





	Those Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Random Fandom 12 Days of Stories, Nice

Gansey and Blue went together. They went to the old cemetery that rested on the key line. Blue brought a scarf she’d knitted, stripey, sparkly, Aglionby colors. She arranged it over his bones, forming a heart, and stepped back into Gansey’s solid embrace. He tucked her head under his chin, and they stood in the gathering twilight, waiting. They knew he wouldn’t be back. That he’s moved on to whatever was next. They were glad of it.

*

Adam worked on the Mustang. Through some mysterious back channel (Gansey’s money), the red Mustang appeared in the lot at Monmouth one afternoon. The plan, though unspoken, was this: Adam would restore the car, and then they would go on a road trip. They only spoke of it in oblique ways. 

“I bet the Harry Potter thing at Universal Studios is cool.” 

“Can you imagine him trying to surf? He would have been amazing.” 

“Blink 182 is touring next summer.”

“Did you know you can tour the chocolate factory in Hershey, Pennsylvania?”

Adam wiped grime and grease from his hands. He spread an old towel over the driver’s seat and sat down. He put the key in the ignition and turned it. 

The engine sputtered to life. 

“Don’t waste your time on me, you’re already the voice inside my head.”

“You’re not a waste,” Adam said. 

*

Ronan went into the forest. 

He screamed at the trees until his voice gave out. 

He sank to his knees and plunged his hands into the cold, damp earth. 

A warm breeze, out of character for December in Virginia but not the heart of Cabeswater, dances around him. It lifted the hem of his shirt, caressed his arms, closing in until it felt like hands on him, blessing him. 

Ronan cried until he fell asleep, and when he slept, he did not dream.

**Author's Note:**

> Mine is an evil laugh.


End file.
